


you're a hammer, sweet firecracker

by fakenewsies (bigsleepsuperhighway)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, handjobs, i think thats it lmfao, top race rights..........bottom albert rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsleepsuperhighway/pseuds/fakenewsies
Summary: "The Lord's day," Spot says good-naturedly. "Always a day for contemplation.""Aw, you shut the hell up," Albert says.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	you're a hammer, sweet firecracker

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written proper smut in a VERY long time so heres hoping this is good lmfao!!!! love this fucking ship so much tho
> 
> title is from 'cheetah tongue' by the wombats!!

"You two," Spot says against Race's mouth. "Connivin' little shits, the both of you."

"Your fault for not assumin' we'd get bored," Albert says idly. Distantly, Spot's aware of the documentary's soft voiceover abruptly cutting out, and assumes Albert must've turned the XBox off.

"You're the only one who likes those things," Race adds, smiling into it and rocking forward into Spot's chest. "The  _ only _ one—probably in all of New York."

Spot should've known it was too good to be true when they'd sat down to watch with him—they never really did that. Neither of them had the patience for documentaries, especially ones about nature; Albert, always drowsy from his nights tending bar, usually conked out around minute twelve, and Race couldn't help his fidgeting. But tonight. Well. Clearly they had an agenda.

They made it 20 minutes.

Then they—ambushed him, essentially, and Spot had a lapful of Race and Albert's hand on his thigh before he knew what to do with them both. Surprised. But not really. Not opposed, either.

"Should've seen this coming," he murmurs now, sliding a hand into Race's back pocket and noting the way his breathing changes, shaky against his mouth.

Albert hums appreciatively. "Yeah... Lordy, the picture you two make. Here, someone—" He urges Race up by the back of his neck and kisses him hard. Race sighs, his long, dainty hands flexing on Spot's chest, and now it's Spot's turn to be appreciative, which isn't hard. 

The thing about Albert's kisses is that they're a little wilder, have a little more bite. Race's desperation comes loose a bit as he responds in kind, his snark faded mostly away, now. That's another thing Spot likes: when they can get Race to shut up and listen. Start paying attention.

"Shit," Spot finds himself saying. "You two..."

Albert pulls away from Race, who's flushed from the apple of his cheeks to below the neckline of his shirt. "Come here," he tells Spot with a wolfish grin.

"You come here," Spot replies, with a grin of his own to match, and Albert does, and their mouths meet. Hard. Teeth-first, a little messy. Albert's got both his hands up Spot's shirt before Spot can think too hard about it. Scratches at his ribs, which makes him shudder in spite of himself.

_ "God," _ Race whines. "Fuck. Okay. I'm taking my jeans off. Don't go anywhere."

"Gotcha," Spot says drily, and no one'll fault him if it's a little strangled, on account of Albert's mouthing at his collarbone.

Race hops off and presumably heads to their room to go strip, though why he never just takes his fucking clothes off wherever Spot's never been able to figure out. He's particular about it, though, never leaves his clothes lying around, which would be weird if it weren't so fucking endearing.

"Been wanting to get fucked," Albert says, nosing up under Spot's jaw, which effectively draws him back to what's happening in front of him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Albert replies, a tad fiercely, and he bites a little harder so Spot will pull his hair. "My whole fuckin' shift. Sundays are always  _ so slow, _ I had nothin' to do but think about you guys—fuckin' bending me over the bar."

"The Lord's day," Spot says good-naturedly. "Always a day for contemplation."

"Aw, you shut the hell up," Albert says. By now, he's moseyed his way into Spot's lap, his mouth hot and sharp all over, and Spot's starting to get properly interested in the proceedings just as Race comes back, in just his dark blue briefs. Half-hard from just kissing, even as he was getting undressed, Spot notices, which makes something in his chest feel good and clean and open.

"Where were we?" Race asks, smiling and kneeling on Spot's left.

"Bangin' me, hopefully," Albert replies.

"Bangin' Al," Spot reinforces, reaching out to tug real gentle at Race's hair as he sucks hard right at the seamless flow of Albert's neck to his shoulder, and Albert hisses through his teeth. "You up for it?"

Race digs in a little with his nails at the back of Albert's neck, just to make his hips roll. "Am I  _ up _ for it. Let's see..."

"If you're up for it, make it soon," Albert says shallowly, and, yeah, there it is, he's hard in his shorts, right up against Spot's thigh.

Albert likes it when it hurts. Just a little to the left of real pain: teeth marks, huge purple hickeys, scratches down his back. Sometimes, if he's feeling it, he'll let them slap him around a bit, and that's when his Georgia will come out; that's when he'll start begging. Spot reaches down to adjust himself, tugs Albert's shirt over his head. "Oh, Racer, let 'im have it. He's waited long enough."

"Aye aye, cap'n," Race says sweetly, and drags Albert up to press him back into the couch, mauling the absolute shit out of his shoulder as he clings to him. Albert's eyes screw shut, his jaw clenching.

Nobody's ever been this lucky, Spot thinks to himself. Not in the whole of New York, not in the whole damn world.

Albert's starting to shake by the time Spot gets his clothes off, and even that little delay seems too long. Race's got a hand down his shorts, stroking him quickly and biting at his mouth, and Albert's eyebrows are upturning like they always do when he's properly turned on, and it's excellent. Spot gets back on the couch and licks the cord of Albert's neck, just 'cause he can, and Albert arches up into it like a cat in the sun.

"You better calm down," he says firmly, his teeth gritted. Though some of the effect is lost because he's trembling like a leaf. "I said I was gettin' fucked and I'll be goddamned if I'm not."

"Southern charm," Race stage whispers, and Albert half-laughs in desperation and socks him on the shoulder.

"Little fucking tease."

"That's what we like about him," Spot says sweetly. He lets Albert kiss him so he doesn't go insane, and it's  _ good. _ It's so good when he works himself up like this, but, well. Spot's never been the type to deny a polite request. "Here, let him up a while. So's we don't end before we start."

"Speak for yourself," Race says, somehow sweeter. "I'm doin' just fine where I'm at."

Albert groans and covers his eyes, his cock straining visibly at the front of his shorts. "Little  _ fucking _ tease."

**Author's Note:**

> [my newsies tumblr!!!!](https://fakenewsies.tumblr.com/) come say hello <33


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